The Lies that Bind Us
by Anone
Summary: Yohji thought he'd finally escaped the dark entanglments of Weiß, but he soon finds that he cannot escape what he once was. Now the darkness in his soul will turn him against everything. Post Gluhen Gluhen Spoilers
1. Default Chapter

The Lies That Bind Us

By Anone

                Dedicated to Mori-chan

                It was turning winter slowly; though the weather was creeping into that crisp white coldness of November and December, its backend still lingered in the warm days of autumn. Like a washed-out cloth the bright city was fading…people that strolled down the streets in the summer now stalked, preoccupied, as gusts of cold wind stirred the orange and brown leaves at their feet. In the mornings frost dusted the grass and rimed the rooftops, and the whole city gleamed in coldness. It was a shiny, chilly, city.

                Ikou wouldn't let that get him down. In fact, (what was he saying?) he rather _liked_ it. He had never been able to explain why, but all of his short life he had only been able to see the beauty of things.  "Look at the trash heap, disgusting isn't it? What is this world coming to?" someone would spit distastefully. And Ikou would tilt his head slightly, his green beautiful eyes—like jewels-- squinted, a small crooked smile on his lips. "Look at how nature breaks down everything perfectly…." He would murmur, gaining attention. "Look at how the bugs are thriving…that beetle there! Look at its colors! Look how shiny and healthy it's shell seems! I guess the trash is good for him?" And by then the disgust once owned by the trash heap would have shifted over to his eccentric outlook, and the ones whom he'd been conversing with him would have left, leaving him crouching over the trash heap and murmuring in amazement.  

                Everyday Ikou walked off to work, waved off by his young, lovely wife, while the older woman of the neighborhood looked on wistfully, wishing that they had married an Ikou of their own.

 He dressed smartly, in a pressed blue button down and dark slacks, his gleaming leather suitcase swinging at his side as he made his was to the office building where he sat in a cubicle all day and did dull things that as a child he had vowed never to do….or he figured that he would have promised that to himself…if he could remember being a child… Then he came home and had dinner with his new wife and they smiled at each other across the candlelit tables and were truly young and in love. Sometimes they would stay up and watch movies together, cuddled up on the couch and sharing the popcorn, but a lot of times it became too late and they went to sleep, and woke up and started all over. 

                One day he and his wife came down the steps of their apartment, his smart shoes clicking on the cold cement, and from the fat gray clouds huddled in the sky their came a few small snowflakes, and Ikou caught one in his hand only to find that it was water. Instead he gazed steadily as the delicate flakes of ice danced down from the sky slowly, and he took his wife's hand. "They are so perfect. Did you know each snowflake has exactly six sides, yet every one is different? And I mean, all the flakes are different, not all the sides." His wife laughed warmly, and shook her head. "I do now." Ikou reached up and brushed the icy white flakes from his wife's raven-colored hair, and he kissed her on the forehead. "I love you…I'll see you later."

                And he walked smartly away, nodded to the ladies outside taking their trash out and taking laundry down from the lines before it froze, and he grinned as the snow flurried around him, the flakes having become as fat and big as feathers. 

Beautiful.

                The streets were nearly empty. Ikou wondered why anyone would want to stay inside on a day like this. But as he turned a corner, onto a street lined with skeletal brown trees and awnings dusted with snow thrusting out over sidewalk cafes, he did see one person. "Hello!" He called. The person did not answer. "Sending out some mail, then?" A small breeze picked up and moaned down the street, but other than that, no answer. The person, like Ikou, was also dressed smartly, in a cream-beige trench coat that looked as though it had cost quite a bit of money. He was kneeling down in front of a blue mailbox, his back to Ikou. "Praying, then?" Ikou sat his briefcase down next to the mailbox and knelt next to the man, smiling. The man looked at him then, stiffly, his eyes watering and seeming to be looking through him into a different dimension. 

                "…Yohji….?" 

                Ikou's forehead crinkled, and he tried to encourage the stranger by widening his smile. "I'm sorry, I didn't understand you…."

                "….Yohji…are you ready to go…?" The stranger breathed, his voice deep and gravelly, like the sound of two damp stones grinding against one another. His pale, shivering lips tilted in a smile. 

                Without a word Ikou hoisted the man up in his arms, ignoring his cries of protest. It was then that he saw that an intricately carved hilt was thrusting out of the stranger's stomach. Ikou sighed as he began the trek back home. "Well, you're lucky my wife's off today, that's all I can say. She's a nurse, and a good one. She'll fix you right up!" He winked at the stranger, who lay dazed in his arms, a small smile remaining, though his consciousness seemed to have gone. 

                As Ikou carried this person back to his apartment he could only wonder what he was going to do about missing work. Would his boss believe "I found a dying man in the street and decided to take him home with me?" Well, he would have to, and if he didn't believe the story, than that meant his trust in Ikou was lower than what he deserved. And in that case he would be better off with a different job anyway. He decided this and nodded his head in resolve, the doubt leaving his heart. If things didn't end up okay in the end…then it wasn't the end.

                At last he turned the corner where he had waved to the ladies doing their chores only a while ago, and it was now vacant. Past the corner was the Laundromat, and past that was a parking lot, and beyond that he climbed up the stairs and tapped on the apartment door with his foot. His wife answered with a surprised cry, and working together the two of them did what they could for the dying man, whom Ikou had saved from the street. 

~~~~~~~~

Well, how do you like? It's just something I kinda did while I was bored. If I do end up continuing, it'll probably come slow, unless I get a really good response. So, Review, if you please. :.:bows:.: Sankyuu ^-^


	2. Chapter 2

                TO KASRA:

                Hey, thanks for reminding me! ^-^ The whole location difference was something I was going to address, but I forgot. I was going to exploit the fact that it was never SPECIFICALLY said that Ikou was still  IN Japan, but then I thought, "at least I don't think there was any solid evidence of that....." lol Cause I know Aya was definitely in America, in less in England there are AMERICAN FLAGS hanging everywhere randomly. XD

                So... I planned to put in later how Ikou and Asuka had moved to America and then later found Aya there.  Which just means the whole thing of Aya's ALMOST death would have to be a longish time afterwards Ikou's epilogue thingy........ does that make sense? Well, anyway, any info or anything you could give me to help fit everything together and be accurate at the same time, I'd sure appreciate it! And thanks for the review!!!!!

PS, go ahead and send me that invitation to the Gluhen story thingy, I wouldn't mind participating, and thanks again. ^-^

                The Lies that Bind Us

                Chapter 2

                Aya moaned, in his dream it seemed…but as he opened his eyes he felt as if he were emerging from something that had held him down for a long time, like sand, or water, and he knew he was not dreaming. His body seemed to come to life slowly, and he could feel everything individually, like there were many separate parts to him that made up one. A hot white pain gnawed at his stomach…when the pain grew instead of lessening, he began to panic. He let out a thick cry, instantly aware of his swollen throat and his mouth, which felt hot and dry… an image of a glass of fresh ice water flickered somewhere in the fevered, hazy, depths of his mind. 

His eyes opened slowly, heavy and pained. He was on something soft—a couch. His fingers clenching it as he struggled to remember where he was. Sat up, dizzy, spinning, soft blankets, sheets, falling to his lap, pillows shifting under his back. He let in a sharp intake of breath as his stomach clenched in a stab of pain. He looked down and saw that his abdomen had been wrapped in tight bandages, and a bright red spot had begun to spread, showing through the fleecy gauze only just. He rubbed his forehead—his skin was hot. 

                He slid to the edge of the couch, biting back a sob as the deep dark pain continued to throb in his stomach. As he blinked tiredly for a second, he sensed movement from the corner of his eye, and gasped, whipping around quickly—too quickly. A hoarse cry wrenched free from the depths of his chest and he flopped back onto the pillows and blankets, everything below his head a blazing well of pain. His mouth was open but nothing came out; muscles tense, trembling; sweat sliding down his forehead; time wouldn't move but was stranded in this desert of scorching sun, burning his insides to death though his skin was untouched. And finally the pain passed enough for him to have coherent thoughts… but by then he was too exhausted. Hot tears were streaming from his eyes, leaving sore trails on his cheeks, his body went limp; he slept again.

                Ikou woke just in time to see their charge as he drifted back off to sleep, though it could not have been a comfortable one, judging by the extra folds of his skin between his furrowed eyebrows. 

                He stretched his long arms and yawned, scratching his short sandy hair and feeling suddenly the soreness in his bum from how long he must have been sleeping on the uncomfortable wooden chair he had kept watch on. On the little table to his side there sat the bowl of now luke-warm water, undisturbed, a wet washcloth floating limp in its depths. He stretched once more and took the water into the kitchen to replace it with a colder counterpart, taking it back and wringing out the washcloth to set on the stranger's forehead. His fever, though still present, had gone down. That was good.  

                Earlier that morning one of the doctors Asuka was close with had kindly put aside his time to give them a house visit. From him they had learned that the man would be out of danger once they stopped the blood flow (which they had) but to bring him to the hospital as soon as he was awake enough to give the information they would need to treat him. So far it seemed that everything would go smoothly.

                Ikou refreshed the cloth and this time wiped gently at the man's face, seeing where sweat and tears had left a sticky trail. And then, though a pillow had mostly covered it, an out-of-place color caught his eye. Ikou yanked the pillow aside, his heart fluttering. The bandages were nearly soaked through with blood. He tensed, many different scenarios rushing to mind. Wake his wife for guidance, though she could use the extra rest?; drive the man to the hospital himself, leave a note? Call the doctor and see if there was anything he could do himself?

                Shaking his head slightly, he stood and hurried into the bedroom he shared with Asuka. His heart warming slightly at the shadowed sight of her lovely form cradled in the bed's pillows and blankets as if it consciously held her. He knelt next to the bed, leaning forward, their faces close, her breath warming on his face. His nose wrinkled slightly, and he smiled despite himself. Morning breath. Even the greatest beauties could not escape it. 

He stroked her raven hair, leaned forward to kiss her forehead, her flawless skin. "Honey…" She stirred only slightly, her pink lips parting as if about to protest. He shook her. "Asuka."

Her heavily-lashed eyes opened sleepily, revealing the glittering jewels beneath, tender and kind. "Ikou?" She said, her voice automatically adopting a tone of alarm. "Is something wrong?" 

"Eh. Well, I… I could use some help. He's started bleeding again."

She stared at him for a second, then closed her eyes and stretched, murmuring: "Oh no…"

"Yeah…" He said grimly. "I'm not sure how serious it is, though it was showing through the bandages."

She nodded, yawning, and slipped off the bed gracefully. Her pale, sloping shoulders were riddled with goosebumps. Ikou noticed and fetched her robe from the closet, slipping it over her white undershirt and holding it for her as she struggled to get her slender arms in their corresponding sleeves.  She smiled at him. "Thank you Darlin." She kissed him on the cheek. 

He blushed, scratching his face embarrassedly.

He followed her out, but the moment his foot stepped over the entrance of their room he felt something was wrong. One hand flew up to grip her shoulder, and in only a few graceful movements he had maneuvered himself in front of her. "Something's wrong…" He grit out. His voice was trembling. It seemed like his mind was still back in the room, though his body had reacted mechanically, instinctively. So sure, like an animal. His heart smashed against his chest. _What was going on?_


End file.
